Saturday, August 22, 2015

TIMOTHY HAS A WEE HOUR VISITOR... 8/23/15

In case you've been with us since the beginning of the #HomicideWanderers arc, think of Ca-Ca as a ten year old Jodie Foster and think of Timothy as a ten year old Lucas Haas...That is unless you have ideas of your own.

Timothy stayed downstairs to watch an old movie. I think it was the 1939 ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD. He liked it, even though Robin Hood looked like Peter Pan, by way of The Burger King. Everyone else in the house was sleeping. So it was him, Errol Flynn and Olivia DeHaviland  in a dim, almost dark living room. He burrowed under an afghan. It wasn't like the fleece throw from Walmart Ca-Ca's mother had. This was a thick, warm, crocheted work of art. His Great Aunt Josephine made it when she was laid up with her new hip. Only she got an infection and died. Now it was like a relic. Timothy felt warm and protected, whether by Aunt Josephine or a whole lot of high grade acrylic he couldn't tell.

But he fell asleep right after Robin Hood sword fights the bad guy... and when he woke up the house was dark, because the little lamp was on a timer and the TV turns off if nobody changes the channel for a few hours. Timothy was afraid to move... even to breathe...The dark made him remember.... Esther was dead and he knew why.... He hoped someone would go to the bathroom. He'd run up in the few seconds between the time they switched on the light (a little would wash downstairs) and the time they closed the door. But nobody had to pee. The little imitation French carriage clock his mom found on the bus chimed 'three.' That made it worse...

He thought about Esther. Maybe he thought too much. He couldn't help it. He trembled. A tiny sliver of watery, gray light from the pole by the corner snuck in between the drapes. He studied the point where it hit the rug. That's when he saw the shoe... A little girl's shoe from the Thom McAnn Collection at Kmart slid out of the blackness and under his not so rigid, little boy's sternum a nectarine sized heart skipped a beat.

Esther was there. She was with him. She raised her arm and pointed right at him. He saw the shoe. He saw the gray-white hand, but the rest was in darkness, though he could see the outline of her thin, meek form. She didn't make a sound... She just stood there, maybe six feet from his nest on the sofa.

Timothy prayed, not out loud, but in his head. Basically all he said was - God is with me. God is with me.... but he didn't feel that way. Then he hiccupped and she was gone... Was it a dream? Was it real? Does it make a difference? But he sat there, curled under the afghan, til dawn. Then he ran upstairs and peed his brains out.

When his mom got up to make pancakes (a Saturday tradition) he was still wrapped up in bed. But he heard her say - What smells like farts down here? as she passed through the living room... Esther, as we know, had a flatulence problem. That's why they killed her.

Later that day, (cold & gray) he sat on the frigid, marble steps in front of his house waiting for Ca-Ca to come out of her place. But just as she did... just as she opened the door and stepped out... a plain, black car rolled down the block and the detective guy from school was in it. He looked at them both.

Some things are worse than ghosts....

<to be continued>

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